?Chapter 1288:


    Some things were better left unsaid. Safer that way.


    Tasha grabbed the tray, eyes darting nervously, and backed out of the room like she couldn’t leave fast enough.


    And just like that, the door clicked shut again. Silence rushed in.


    Ste copsed back onto the sofa, chest heaving, throat raw. The words were out, but there was no relief. No release. Only exhaustion.


    She’d hoped getting it off her chest would help. That screaming would clear some of the weight pressing down on her. But instead, the helplessness sank deeper.


    Tasha had been the first person to talk to her in days. And now she was gone, too.


    If she didn’t let it out, she’d lose her mind.


    What Ste didn’t know was that every word she’d just screamed, every tear, every curse—it was all being streamed in real time.


    The vi’s surveince system didn’t miss a thing. Top-of-the-line equipment. High-res video. Crystal-clear audio.


    And all of it fed straight into William’s private inbox.


    In the Briggs Group’s executive office, William sat behind his desk, dark eyes locked on the screen in front of him. A dozen tabs were open, but his attention was fixed on one—the surveince feed from Ste’s room.


    He didn’t usually monitor her constantly, only asionally to see how she was handling her situation.


    But ten minutes ago, after wrapping up a long video call with overseas partners, he’d clicked it open without thinking. And caught her mid-breakdown.


    He watched her grab the maid. Saw her snap, rage, cry. Heard every bitter word she spit about him.


    The camera caught it all in unforgiving rity—tear-streaked face, shaking hands, hatred zing in her eyes.


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    He let the footage rey. Once. Then again. And again.


    “He’s a devil. A twisted lunatic. He’s doomed to be miserable. No happiness. No warmth. Not now. Not ever.”


    The words rang in his ears, sharp and echoing.


    His fingers closed around the steel pen in his hand, squeezing so hard the metal dug into his skin. A vein pulsed angrily at his temple.


    He didn’t move. The whole office felt like it had dropped into subzero temperatures.


    And then—heughed. Cold. t. Humorless.


    So she hated him?


    So what?


    He didn’t need her love. Didn’t want her pity. She was the one who betrayed him. She was the liar, the one who walked away. She didn’t get to curse him, didn’t get to judge.


    The imnted memories from Arlo twisted behind his eyes again—like poison resurfacing.


    Anyone in the world could speak ill of him, but not Ste.


    His chest tightened with fury. Then—bang! His fist mmed into the desk. The wood groaned under the impact, startling Luca, who was just about to knock.


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